


precious and fragile things

by FlyingFleshEater



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Babies, Children, F/F, F/M, Minor Character Death, underage will only be mentioned in one chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3374753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingFleshEater/pseuds/FlyingFleshEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Inquisitor had a kid before the Conclave. How would their LI react to finding out?<br/>Saw this prompt on the kink meme and just couldn't resist. One chapter for each of my six Inquisitors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	precious and fragile things

Cassandra entered the War Room well after the others had gathered and took her position beside the Herald silently. Quill glanced at her quickly, smiling a little, before returning his attention to Cullen’s report.

“Excellent,” he said when Cullen wrapped up.

“I have news as well, Your Worship,” Leliana said, stepping up to the table. “Our agents were able to reach your clan. I apologize that it took so long. They were hard to find and then with the trouble at Haven it took my agents a while to find us. Your Keeper sent back a chest full of rare herbs and a letter for you. I also have missives from your father and your son.” Leliana handed these across the table and Quill nearly leapt for them in his eagerness.

Cassandra stood silently beside him as he quickly tore through the seal on the first letter, feeling suddenly very cold. “Son?” It slipped out by mistake. She grabbed the pommel of her sword, a calming reflex, and glanced across the table to see if anyone heard.

Josephine studiously avoided her gaze by focusing on her tablet. Cullen, without the excuse of papers to shuffle and notes to make, was staring off just to his right at a very interesting candle. Leliana, though, made no effort to avoid her gaze. Her face was blank, in that careful, purposeful, way she had. There was no sign of pity, and that was a small comfort to Cassandra.

“Yes, he’s four,” Quill replied distractedly as he finished the letter from his keeper. He grunted, nodded, and moved on to the next. His brow creased in seriousness for a moment. “They’ve planted trees for my clansmen killed at the Conclave, and for Reis. ‘On that place overlooking the river that she liked so much,’” he quoted from the letter. His voice was not sad so much as resigned. He had spoken briefly with Cassandra about his sister’s presence at the Conclave when she told him she didn’t wish to speak of her own brother. He hadn’t mentioned her since then and Cassandra had not pressed.

And a son. He never mentioned a son.

Cassandra looked down at the top of her boots shamefully when she felt the corners of her eyes prick with tears. She had thought Quill was flirting but clearly she had misinterpreted the situation. Though, she supposed, she could have simply misjudged his character. He might be the type of man to keep many women at his beck and call. He was handsome enough that it didn’t seem impossible.

Quill laughed delightedly when he opened his son’s letter. He began to read it out loud haltingly, tilting the parchment occasionally to make out the words in messy childish handwriting. “Dear Poppy, I miss you and love you a bunch. I am being good like you told me. Grandpop is taking good care of me. We went to the river and caught a fish. He says you are fighting bad guys. Please beat them up and come home soon. Bring me a fancy sword when you come home so I can help you beat up bad guys. Thank you. Oh look,” he showed Cassandra the letter, “he drew a picture of me and him killing demons.”

There was indeed a messily drawn picture of two elves, one with a sword and one with a maul, fighting a hoard of scribbles that Cassandra could imagine to be demons. She couldn’t help the small smile that rose to her lips despite her current melancholy. “He’s quite the artist,” she commented when she saw Quill’s expectant look. He beamed at her, pride shining in his features, before passing the note to the others to look at.

While the others were distracted with cooing over the picture, Cassandra backed out of the War Room. She caught Leliana’s eye as she closed the door and shook her head minutely. Leliana nodded once and Cassandra’s escape was made.

~

For the first time in her life, Cassandra feigned illness to get out of being in another’s company. She immediately felt shame as she sent her message to Quill that she wouldn’t be able to join him. There was less than an hour before the company’s departure time. Not enough for him to check on her and see to a replacement. He would simply have to pick someone and go.

As she penned the note, a small part of her insisted that she was being silly, that there was nothing untoward going on. The larger part insisted that if he had nothing to hide he would have mentioned the child sooner. As far as Cassandra was aware he hadn’t told anyone. She was sure that if Dorian or Sera knew Cassandra would already be the butt of many jokes. As she was currently safe from their teasing she could only assume that they had no idea a child existed.

Cassandra was hopeful that a week of separation would be all she needed to get herself back in order. She had to focus on what was important. Defeating Corypheus was all that mattered, not her romantic entanglements.

She wallowed internally for the first few days, throwing herself into training with the recruits. She sent more to the infirmary than she ever had and felt all the better for it. Every person she sent limping off had her envisioning her bruised feelings doing the same. Soon she was able to breathe easy and smile as she attacked.

Of course, this was all ruined the second she saw Quill again.

He stood just outside the tavern, speaking to Scout Harding, bathed in the afternoon sunlight that made his hair look like spun gold. Cassandra’s heart tripped in her chest and she had the childish urge to run away. She had even half turned, ready to run back up the stairs and into the keep when Quill looked up and caught her eye.

“Damnit,” she muttered to herself. Trapped, she had no other option but to continue on like she hadn’t been thinking of fleeing.

He was smiling widely as he excused himself from Harding and made his way to her. “Cassandra!”

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra greeted evenly.

His smile lost a little of its luster at her lack of enthusiasm. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better. You were missed in the field. Blackwall is an excellent fighter of course, but he’s not anywhere near as delightful.”

He could not have done more harm if he had stabbed her, in Cassandra estimation. She glanced around quickly and saw far too many people to feel comfortable having words with him out in the open and so made a hasty decision. “Could we speak privately, Your Worship?”

Quill’s eyes widened at her formality. “Of course,” he agreed quickly.

Cassandra led him to a nearby vacant room, shutting the door firmly behind them before going to the opposite end in a few quick strides. Quill followed her warily, eyes flicking between her face and her twisting hands. “Is something the matter?” he asked when she didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Cassandra rounded on him and he took a quick step back. “You must stop flirting with me.”

For a moment Quill only stared, mouth half open, and Cassandra began to wonder if she’d misread the situation again. But then Quill shook himself and closed his mouth. “Why?” He shook his head again and held up his hands. “No wait, I…I’m sorry. Clearly you are not interested. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Anger, swift and hot, bit through her, lingering at her temples in a tense throb. She knew she should just leave him to his ignorance, damn her affection for him, and move on with her life, but she couldn’t.

“That is all you have to say? You refuse to see any wrong doing?”

His brow crinkled and Cassandra almost laughed bitterly. She had not known he was such an accomplished play actor. “I’m…sorry?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck in a way that made him look boyish and charming.

“You are involved with another!” she shouted, finally pushed to her wit’s end.

“No I’m not.” Quill replied, momentarily confused before his expression cleared, hardened with an inkling of understanding. “Has someone been spreading rumors?” He strode forward, palms up in supplication. “There is no one else, I swear it.”

His words tugged at Cassandra’s heart. Something about the situation wasn’t adding up and she wasn’t sure what it could be. “You have a child.”

Quill stared at her like he was waiting for more. When she offered nothing he ventured, “yes, and?”

“A child necessitates a mother.”

Cassandra could see realization dawn on Quill almost as if it were a tangible presence. “Oh,” he said, long and drawn out. And then he laughed. When Cassandra’s expression soured further, he was quick to sober. “Humans are so funny about some things,” he defended. “His mother died in childbirth. She was very dear to me, but I admit that the boy was an accident. I doubt very seriously that anything would have come from our relationship other than our son.”

“I see.” Cassandra still had many questions, but her relief was quick to come despite them and she allowed her severe posture to relax. Now that Quill had explained the situation it seemed almost too obvious and she felt silly at having gotten so worked up over nothing.

Quill looked her in the eye, the absolute picture of earnestness. “I said it a moment ago and I will say it again. There is no one else. Only you.”

Cassandra flushed and looked away. “I…very well.” When she looked back at him he was smiling beautifully.

~

Grey pre-dawn light crept across the high ceilings like the tide slowly coming in. Cassandra watched the progress with a quiet contentment that she had only recently begun to feel. She smiled when cold fingers began to trace patterns over her torso, mapping out her various scars and avoiding her breasts on purpose in an attempt to rile her. She allowed it and luxuriated in the feeling of Quill’s touch, especially when he allowed his nails to scrape over her flesh lightly. They lay in silence like that for a time, until the grey light was interspersed with pink and pale blue.

“What does he look like?”

“Hmm?”

“Your son.”

“He looks quite a bit like me, though he has his mother’s ears.” She reached up and ran one finger along the edge of his long ear to the tip and he groaned and bucked against her thigh in surprise. “She had smaller ears,” he continued once he had stilled Cassandra’s hand and his own hips.

“So he is as handsome as you.”

Quill laughed. “No, he is much handsomer.”

“You will have to tell me everything about him.”

“And where should I start?”

“Why did you name him Alder?”

Quill looked at her sideways. “You know nothing of elves. I will have to tell you everything about that as well. I did not name him anything. The maternal grandmother names the children, though I suppose if I had objected strongly to the name she would have considered something else. He was named for the alder trees that grew where we were camped.”

“I would like to meet him. Someday.”

“You will.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. While part of me wants him to grow up Dalish, the greater part longs to have him near. I don’t want to be an absent father. Once things calm down and it’s a bit safer, I will send for him.” He sighed against her throat. “We shall be a family. That is…if you wish it.”

Cassandra’s answer was a whisper. “I wish it.” She felt his lips curl into a smile.

“Good.”

~

“Oh, now look at this!” Quill cheered, picking up the maul one of their recently dead enemies had been flailing at them.

It appeared to be fine weapon. The haft and pommel were simple but the head was fashioned into the shape of a horse’s head. Quill swung it a few times, laughing loudly.

“It’s very fine,” Cassandra agreed, sparing a glance over her shoulder before going back to turning out pockets and rummaging through rucksacks. She found one of the bandits’ coin purse dropped in the dirt.

“I think this is just the thing for our boy,” Quill said when he’d stopped spinning around, holding it out in front of him to have a better look.

Touched as she was to be included, Cassandra still snorted. “It’s a bit unwieldy for a child.”

Quill pouted. “He’ll grow into it.”

“You will recall that he requested a sword, not a maul.” She moved on to the next body.

“Point conceded,” Quill agreed. “Perhaps I’ll keep this for myself then.”

“Good, it’s decided,” Varric chimed in. “Now help us loot.”

“Yes, yes, sorry.”

Cassandra turned back to the grisly business as well and there was mostly silence for a moment. Then a glint of metal caught her eye. The sword of one of the bandits was laying in the mud near her. It was a beautiful weapon, and well cared for. She picked it up out of the muck and looked it over. “Quill?”

He hummed his acknowledgement without looking up.

“What of this, for your son?”

Quill looked up then, sharp eyes drawn instantly to the weapon. He dropped the man he’d been stripping of his armor with a loud clatter and approached her quickly. “That’s an Elvhen blade,” he said with awe, hesitating to reach for it. Cassandra put it in his hand firmly. “I wonder where he found it.”

“Perhaps he came across an ancient temple? We’ve found several ourselves.”

A look of contempt swept across Quill’s face quickly but was gone before Cassandra could comment on it. Quill had little patience for _“thieving shems”_ and it was a delicate subject whenever it came up. Cassandra often didn’t feel that it was her place to say anything about it even if Quill’s attitude could become…disconcerting.

“Well, wherever he found it, it’s ours now,” he decided, letting his ire go.

“Your son would quite like it, I think.”

Quill gave her a wry glance. “So you’d make a shield bearer out of him, would you?”

“Of course,” Cassandra went along. “Much more dignified than swinging around an oversized hammer.”

Quill looked her up and down with deliberate slowness, his eyes half lidded. “I’ll give you an oversized hammer, all right,” he said, lowly enough that the others wouldn’t hear. Cassandra flushed at the insinuation and took a step back, clearing her throat in embarrassment. Quill grinned in triumph.

“Shut up,” she said, narrowing her eyes in false annoyance. She ran her hand down his arm as she passed him to assure him that she wasn’t really angry.

“Oh, and Cassandra?” She looked back at him in question. “He’s _our_ son.”

She smiled, pleased. “Of course.”

~

Cassandra was sitting alone in the library, struggling to get through more of the Seeker tome as she fought off yawns, when the hurried click of heeled shoes on stone drew her attention. She looked up just in time to see Ambassador Montilyet come rushing up the stairs, her usual fastidious appearance in disarray. Their eyes met and Cassandra raised an eyebrow but said nothing. At first, it appeared as though Josephine planned to keep moving, but she stopped with a sudden lurch just as she had nearly passed Cassandra’s table.

Forgoing all formalities, Josephine stepped up to her quickly and whispered with urgency. “I must speak with you and Leliana immediately. It is of utmost importance.” Though Cassandra couldn’t claim to any special closeness with Josephine, she knew the woman well enough to know that something truly earth shaking must have happened to affect her so.

She stood without argument and followed Josephine further up the tower to the aviary where Leliana spent most of her time. Indeed, she was there, sitting at her table and glaring at a missive in front of her. She looked up, eyes wide with surprise, when Josephine called out her name.

“Yes? What’s happened?” She asked, taking in Cassandra’s presence.

“Something horrific,” Josephine said, once again forgoing pleasantries. She thrust the letter she was carrying into Leliana’s hand. “I’ve just received a response from the Duke of Wycome.”

“Oh no,” Cassandra said before she could sensor herself. Josephine didn’t say anything, confirming Cassandra’s fears.

Leliana unrolled the letter and began to read. Her expression darkened the further she got into the missive until with a snarl she thrust the letter away and stalked off a few steps to look over the railing at the center of the tower. One of her rooks flew down to perch on her shoulder, receiving a lazy stroke for its trouble.

Cassandra snatched up the letter herself. It started with transparent pleasantries but quickly spiraled into thinly veiled accusations about the Inquisition’s true purpose in looking into the matter of the Elvhen clan’s wellbeing. Cassandra was sure that the Inquisition did have spies in Wycome, but she knew that neither Josephine nor Leliana were stupid enough to have the diplomat and spy be the same person.

And then.

_“You’ll be pleased to know that I have already taken care of the problem. As for the elves, I have removed that nuisance as well. Those savage creatures will no longer trouble my lands. Please inform the Inquisitor that I took care of his precious son personally.”_

Feeling lightheaded, Cassandra fumbled for the edge of the table, leaning against it heavily once she found it. Her stomach rolled and she had to swallow twice to keep her lunch down. She crushed the letter in her hand, knuckles turning white with the pressure she was exerting.

“That’s not all.” Josephine passed the small wooden box she held to Leliana. It was a beautiful box, inlaid with opal and stained a rich dark color. It was closed with a bright red ribbon.

Leliana sent a curious glance to Josephine even as she accepted it, taking note of the way Josephine’s lips were pressed into a tight line. Leliana untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box only to immediately let it fall closed again. She took a sharp breath and covered her mouth with her free hand. “Maker.”

“What is it?” Cassandra demanded. Her voice sounded weak in her own ears but Leliana and Josephine both flinched.

Josephine refused to look at her but Leliana met her gaze once she had regained control of herself. “Ears. They sent the boy’s ears.”

Cassandra could no longer stand. Could no longer breathe. She sank to her knees, gasping painfully.  She held her hand out. “Give them to me.”

Leliana glanced nervously at Josephine. “I do not think—“

“Give them to me,” she said again.

Leliana frowned but handed over the box without further protest.

Cassandra had not realized she was shaking until she had the box in her lap. She didn’t want to look in it. She wondered at the absolute cruelty of the Duke to send such a thing, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there had been many worse things he could have done instead.

She flipped open the box. Nestled in black velvet were two small pointed ears, different than Quill’s as he had told her all those weeks ago.

The rage that filled her at the sight of them was a comfort. She closed the box and gripped it in both hands. “We need to burn them. Elves burn their dead.”

“Of course, but first we must decide how to proceed.” Cassandra was startled to see Leliana just in front of her offering a clean handkerchief.

Cassandra took the cloth and ducked her head, not ashamed that tears were running down her cheeks, but uncomfortable with the display. “This duke will pay.”

“Undoubtedly, but I was referring to what and _how_ we should tell His Worship.”

~

“Oh, a chair! When did we get a chair?” Quill announced his entrance, grinning as he walked into the War Room to find the others already present. His good mood slipped away quickly at the sight of their grim faces. “What’s happened?”

“Please,” Leliana began, gesturing to the chair, “have a seat, Your Worship.”

Quill crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll stand.”

“Quill,” Cassandra said, unable to keep the sadness from her tone. His eyes found hers right away, unused to hearing his name around others. “You will want to be sitting.”

He was timid then, taking halting steps forward and lowering himself onto the chair. His eyes, naturally wide, grew wider as he began to panic and Cassandra quickly knelt beside him, taking his marked hand in both of hers. His rough fingers clenched around hers and his breathing quickened, thin chest rising and falling fast and loud. “You’re not asking me to marry you, are you?” He asked with a nervous laugh in an attempt to diffuse the tension. It didn’t work.

Cassandra didn’t smile, but she laid a kiss to the back of his hand. “Not today,” she said.

“Who died?” he demanded then.

Cullen, grim faced, looked down at the War Table. Leliana glanced at Josephine, and Josephine, sweet and kind and visibly distraught, stepped forward.

“We have received word from the Duke of Wycome about the situation involving your clan. The diplomat’s efforts have failed. The situation has deteriorated.”

Quill tensed so hard and so quickly that it looked like he jumped. “Who died?” he asked again, this time his voice was weaker, like he could barely get the air around the words.

Josephine opened and closed her mouth a few times, Cullen kept his eyes down, and Leliana was as silent and blank as ever.

“Cassandra.”

“Everyone,” she said, choking over it. “Everyone.”

Quill went still and silent, and then he lurched forward suddenly, taking Cassandra’s face between his hands, his fingers digging into her flesh painfully. She didn’t flinch, just met his hysterical eyes. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a wheezing gasp.

“He’s gone. Alder is gone.” Cassandra would never consider herself a gentle person, but she tried for him.

Quill wheezed again. Cassandra reached up and placed her hands over his, not to pull him away but to attempt some form of comfort. As soon as her hands touched him he let her go and stood, every inch of him coiled with tension so that he was visibly trembling.

And then he screamed, or roared, or keened. The sound tore at Cassandra’s heart and made the other’s flinch at the raw feeling it contained. He beat at his chest with a fist, pulled at his hair with the other hand, and still he screamed.

When he finally stopped he was doubled over but still, tears dripping off his chin the only movement in the calm after his storm. He stood up strait and smoothed down his hair but didn’t wipe at his face. He cleared his throat twice. When he spoke his voice was rough but steady.

“I want his head, Cullen. If you do not see to it, I will see to it myself.” Something about his steely tone must have resonated with Cullen because he didn’t bother to argue.

“At once, Your Worship.”

~

Cassandra had never seen the Inquisitor’s room fully dark. He always kept the drapes pulled back and usually had the large windows open, even in the dead of winter. Lost birds had found their way in more than once. But now the drapes were closed, the windows latched. There was no fire burning and all of the candles were extinguished. Other than that the room was as immaculate as ever. She didn’t know exactly what she had expected, but she had thought there would be at least something out of place.

She didn’t see him in the main room, but she had already searched all of his other haunts and his mount was still in the stable.

“Quill?”

For a moment there was only silence, and then. “Loft.” He was quiet but his voice was clear.

Tucking the urn she had brought with her into the crook of her left arm, she climbed the ladder to Quill’s loft, careful not to tip out any of the ashes. Quill was curled in on himself in the far corner, down to just a torn tunic and a pair of trousers, shoes gone.

She placed her burden in front of his bare feet. He flinched at the sound of porcelain on stone.

“What is that?”

Cassandra sat beside him, her shoulder brushing his. “Alder’s ashes.” She swallowed harshly. “What the Duke sent of him.”

Quill hid his face against his knees and said nothing.

“I thought we could plant them with the tree when it arrives.”

He nodded.

Cassandra sighed as she copied his pose. “I know that,” she hesitated, preparing the exact words to use, “that my grief cannot _begin_ to compare to yours, but I hurt so. There is an empty place in my heart that aches and I…I did not wish to be alone.”

For a moment he was still and silent, but then he reached out and took her hand in his, turning his head so his fierce eyes met hers. “There is no comparison because there is no difference. You were his mother just as surely as I was his father. Just because you had not met, does not make it less true.”

He pulled at her waist, tugging until she moved to sit crossways in his lap. They were of a height so she had to duck her head to rest it against his shoulder. He held her firmly, his cheek on the crown of her head and his arms wrapped all the way around her.

Cassandra was not sure that she believed him. More accurately, she believed his feelings on the matter to be honest, but she was not entirely sure that she agreed. Still, she did not plan to argue it with him. “I came to offer comfort and instead you are comforting me.”

“Your presence is a comfort.”

They stayed there in silence for the rest of the night, both eventually falling asleep.

 


End file.
